At the Center of Things
by Atavaka
Summary: Ornan has always exsisted as more of an outsider, searching for his goals from a distance. That is, until he's forced to be the fulcrum of events...
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Suikoden IV, or anything Suikoden-related. Enough said- I'm a firm believer in keeping things short and interesting.

**A/N:** Okay, I realize that I'm probably violating a lot of canon with this story, but there's not much I can do about that; there aren't very many biographical resources for Suikoden IV in English at the moment. Even so, Ornan has always fascinated me as a character, mostly because of his semi-fascinating back story, and I always wondered whether… well, you'll see. But, at any rate, I'm warning you ahead of time not take some of the future references seriously; they're all based on my own interpretation of information collected from the game, and may or may not be accurate. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

* * *

He was at the bar all day and most of the night. Not really drinking, or at least not drinking all that much, but simply sitting. Existing. Occasionally, he might talk to the other patrons at the bar or waste potch tossing dice with Gunter, but he rarely ventured too far from his favorite velvet bar stool and almost never left the saloon. Louise had seen drunks "live" at bars before, but never serious men like him.

"Hey, Ornan! Want any more rum? You're lookin' kind of dry." Louise carefully took a bottle off the rack behind her and sensuously strolled over to his seat.

Ornan looked up at her and smiled that sad, bittersweet smile of his. "No thanks Louise. I already have a tankard."

Louise frowned at him. His tankard wasn't even half empty, and she'd given it to him nearly an hour ago! She sighed, then, placing both arms on top of the bar counter, leaned closer to him.

"I hate seeing people waste away like this, Ornan. You need to get outta this bar, go _do_ something! Why don't you head to the training room? The rear deck? Maybe even the library? I don't care what, just do _something_!"

His expression remained unchanged. "Louise, I'm not drunk. You don't need to cut me off, especially after I just turned _you _down for another round."

"No! That's not what I meant-"

"Shh! Incoming!" Keeping his hand low to the counter, Ornan pointed towards the large wooden doors leading into the saloon.

_Now what?_ thought Louise in exasperation. Looking in the direction Ornan was pointing, she saw a very nervous, rail-thin man with neck-length black hair scuttle over to the bar counter. Suppressing a groan, Louise went over to serve him. Hopefully, this time he'd come only for the alcohol.

"Desmond! You seem lively today! Can I get you anything?" She attempted to keep the usual sensuous hip movement out of her gait this time, and hoped she'd succeeded.

"Why y-yes Louise… You seem, uh, healthy." She relieved his awkwardness with a bright, completely non-suggestive smile, allowing him to continue. "Mulled wine, if you'd be so kind…"

"Afraid we're fresh out."

"But I could've sworn Lady Elenor was-"

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean she got it from the bar. How's rum sound to you?"

Eyes darting feebly, he barely managed to stammer out a reply. "Uh, you s-see… I'm not too fond of…" His eyes finally came to rest upon Ornan in the corner and noted the half-full tankard of rum sitting before him. The man believed his jealousy to be well-hidden, but he was pathetically transparent when it came to matters of the heart. She knew his answer before he even opened his mouth to reply.

"I'd like a pint, if it'd be alright."

Louise retrieved the bottle she'd offered to Ornan, noticing and loathing his amused smile on the way, before completely filling Desmond's mug. Returning to him, she set the frothy mug on the counter before trying to escape to a distance where she could politely ignore him, pretending she couldn't hear a word he'd said.

She didn't make it. The second she turned around, Desmond began probing, as he tended to do when Ornan was around. Which was always.

"S-so, is everything alright Ms. Louise? None of your patrons are bothering you, right? Because if they are, you know… well, I could, um, say something to the captain…"

"Everything is perfectly fine, _Mr. _Desmond. I don't want you starting rumors about my best patrons harassing me. I'll lose business, you understand?" His jealousy really irked her; how obvious could she make it that she wasn't interested in him? Sure, he was far more polite, refined, and probably more sensitive than Dario, but that certainly didn't make him her type.

It was at that moment that Dario crashed through the saloon doors, nearly tearing them off their hinges like a renegade rune cannonball.

* * *

Ornan had known from the start that Louise wasn't trying to cut him off from the alcohol, but he decided to play dumb anyways as he didn't particularly want to leave. No matter how large the odds stacked against it were, he couldn't discard the idea that she was the woman he was looking for.

A part of him, a very large part, in fact, knew better. Louise couldn't possibly be Sonja, as she had told him she had lived in Obel her entire life, while Sonja had grown up in Teien. Still, the alluring lilt in her eyes, the golden locks which cascaded behind her, and the way her hips swayed as she walked reminded him almost painfully of Sonja. They were even of similar age, although Louise appeared older than he imagined Sonja would.

Desmond's timely entrance had been just the thing to get Louise's rather scattered attention off of him. He realized that she probably saw him as some bizarre sort of drunk who, for one reason or another, never drank, but it was a better cover than the truth. _If you realized that I stay just so I can look at you, day in and day out, would you magically reveal your true identity to be Sonja of Teien? _Watching the way she scolded Desmond loudly for some comment he hadn't caught, he decided that no, she probably wouldn't appreciate another crush. Especially one that wasn't really on her, but a memory she seemed to preserve. _What a pitiful thing I've become,_ he thought.

The large double doors leading into the saloon swung open with a violent crash, and in bounded a short, bull-like little man wearing a green bandana, a belt with a rather disproportionably-large skull belt buckle, and the typical pirate combo of a sleeveless shirt and green knee-length shorts. _Dario's excitable, but not usually like this,_ thought Ornan with a rather casual lack of concern. Drama like this was fun to watch, but not participate in. It was times like this that he preferred not to be at the center of attention.

"Louise! Where are you, you dumb broad?" he hollered at the top of his lungs, looking around wildly.

"Do you have to yell? I'm right here, behind the bar like I always am!" Ornan had never seen Louise's face as utterly annoyed as it was at that moment.

Clutching a small scrap of paper in his hand, he viciously turned and slammed his hands on the bar so hard that a tremor went through it. Desmond's still-untouched mug of rum toppled over as its owner looked around, bewildered.

"What the hell have you done to my son?"

Lithely snatching the scrap of paper from underneath Dario's hand, Louise quickly scanned it over. After a few seconds, she let out a small chuckle before gently releasing it so that it floated into Dario's face.

"Well, I think the question here is what _you _have been telling him. More stories of Dario the Great and Just Pirate, I suppose?" Although Ornan couldn't really see her face, as she was now facing Dario, he was willing to bet she was smiling. Dario, on the other hand, was starting to look like a piece of Adrienne's tempering metals.

"Stop playin' dumb, Louise! I know you took him! You've wanted Nalleo back ever since you left him with me!"

"No, I'm afraid I really haven't seen him Dario. And I'm willing to bet he's, oh, perhaps _running away _like it says in the note?" Before he could reply, Louise turned around and deftly poured him a mug of rum. "On the house," she said as she slid it to him across the counter.

Clutching the mug, Dario looked a bit taken aback before emptying the mug's contents in a short series of gulps.

Louise jumped on the chance to talk without being blasted apart from his hysteria. "First, tell Rikie that her boy is with ours. She'll be worried, so that should be our first priority. Next, we'll start looking for volunteers to help us search. I doubt they got very far, since they probably just stole a rowboat. Hopefully, they'll have enough sense to row towards land." She paused thoughtfully for a second before continuing. "Mordos Island is a reasonable distance. Nalleo's been living with you, so he probably knows how to get there. Let's search in that direction first."

Ornan couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Did she really just refer to Nalleo, who was _Dario's _son, as "ours?" If he was interpreting the conversation correctly, and he really hoped he wasn't, then… _Nalleo must be Louise's son, too._

The sudden implications of Louise and Dario's relationship suddenly hit home like a fire rune blast, and Ornan could feel the melancholy suddenly settling over his heart and mind like some sort of dark, wet blanket. There was no way Louise and Sonja could be the same person; Nalleo was, what, eleven? Twelve? He had met Sonja around eleven years ago, and there was no way she had been pregnant back then, not to mention with the son of a pirate from the Island Nations.

He hadn't realized how much of his heart had been counting on Louise being Sonja. He berated himself bitterly for his naïveté. _You knew this was going to happen, _whispered the logical corner of his mind. _You knew from the start that she wasn't Sonja; you just wanted an excuse to fall for her._

"Ornan!" Louise's voice took him out of his self-destructive reverie. He looked up and saw her facing him, hands on her hips. Behind her, Dario had a dazed look on his face while Desmond had an oddly-triumphant grin which looked horribly out of place.

"You're gonna help look for the boys. And there's no point in arguing; I'm not giving you a choice." Desmond's grin slid off his face as she turned back to Dario. "There, our first two recruits. A couple more and we'll be good to go." Dario simply nodded in response, still looking a bit dazed.

No one noticed Ornan's sudden funk. A few seconds of depressed staring later, he got up and went to his quarters. It was the first time he had done so during the day since coming aboard the ship.

* * *

**Off the coast of Mordos Island**

Nalleo manned the oars as Rakgi stood watch. As it was nearing noon, there was plenty of light to see by and Nalleo wasn't having much trouble avoiding the occasional rock as they approached the shore. Rakgi was positively bouncing with excitement and wasn't really paying to attention what was going on around him anyways.

"Come on, Nalleo, tell me more about what we're gonna do when we get to Mordos!"

"First, we'll cut down trees and steal some canvas for a mast and sails to put on this rowboat. Then, we'll sail to that deserted island the mermaids came from and make an even bigger ship! It'll be better than the Grishend, even!" Nalleo let out a sigh as he considered being a great pirate, better than even his dad and Lady Kika.

"And then we'll make everyone fear our names! We'll get rich off of plunder and make our own pirate den!" Rakgi was getting really excited, which was sort of unusual. He was normally a pretty level-headed kid.

"First, we'll have to train. I think you'll be good with a sword," said Nalleo, eyeing the younger boy with what he hoped would be taken as a professional's appraisal. It was.

"You really think so?" In his excitement, Rakgi was starting to tip the boat. After plenty of practice working in a rowboat, he knew enough to sit down.

"Of course! Once we're both master fighters, we'll rule these seas! Just you and me! Oh, and maybe a few underlings… but it'll be mostly you and me." He gave one of his light, little smiles which were the practical equivalent of a grin on most people.

"Hey, you don't think my mom's going to worry about me too much, do you? I mean, she probably won't like me being a pirate, and I'm not supposed to stay away from our room for more than a day, so-"

"She'll be fine. We'll just give her some of our treasure, and she can buy her own house on Obel or something." He stopped for a second as a hopeful wish popped into his head. "Maybe… Maybe my dad will even marry her then." He waited for the angry outburst that was he almost certain to come.

Instead, Rakgi seemed to have regained all of his enthusiasm. "Oh! Yeah, that would be great! Your dad's the best!"

_And I've always wanted a mother, _thought Nalleo. He decided not to voice this thought, as it was a very un-pirate-like thing to say.

Of course, he had no idea that he already had one.

* * *

**Fort El-Eal**

Graham Cray was an imposing figure. His body was so… _inhuman_-looking with all of its mechanical constructions that it made one uncomfortably aware of his own body parts. The worst was definitely the eyes, though; cold, metallic grey, they made Min wonder if he even still thought the same way humans do.

"So, Mr. Min… Will you do it? As I said, you will be well compensated for your efforts."

Min was a short, fat little man dressed in purple fisherman's robes. His thin mat of red hair added to the jolly-looking expression frozen onto his rotund face and helped hide the slightly more… unsavory nature of his work. Sitting in the office at the top of this dark, forbidding fortress, he wondered when his reputation had become so infamous that he was now serving a military faction. This mission could open up a whole slew of opportunities.

"Of course. But it truly must be 'well-compensated;' I've never offed a noble before, much less one from the Scarlet Moon Empire. I take it this has to do with some of you _history, _hm?"

"Careful. Assassins aren't supposed to understand the reasoning behind their targets, just take care of them. There are plenty more where you came from, remember." His voice was cold and venomously soft. Never had Min encountered someone like him.

He quickly changed the subject. "So he was last seen in Obel?"

"Yes, but it is doubtful that he is still there. If I where you, I wouldstart by checking the nearby islands. He won't be expecting you, so there is no chance for failure, correct?"

"Of course." Min's jolly smile never faltered. "I never fail."


	2. Part 2

**Disclaimer:** These things sure get annoying after a while… oh well. I still don't own Suikoden IV franchise, and I never will.

**A/N:** This story was originally meant to be only a single chapter long, but it ended up being more as ideas kept popping into my head and the plot became a little bit more complicated. I hope no one minds. Again, I'm sure there's some major canon destroyers lurking in this chapter, so forgive me ahead of time.

* * *

The afternoon was fading into an early twilight as Ornan's rowboat neared the Mordos shoreline. His arms, though strong and thickly corded with muscle, were tired from nearly four hours of constant rowing, and the rocking motion of the tiny rowboat was starting to take its toll on his stomach. He hadn't realized how far away the fleet had been from Mordos when he left, but the answer was pretty clear now. He would've been rowing frantically for the visible beach if he had the strength left.

Louise had recruited a grand total of five individuals for the search, not counting herself and Dario. Nico was almost a given; he certainly couldn't tell the difference between a boy and girl up close, but he had the best far-sight on the ship and his post as lookout made him a shoe-in. Little Noah volunteered after she heard the exchange in the saloon between Louise and Dario, though one suspected whether she might not have a crush on a certain long-haired little boy, and was out with Rene in one of the searching rowboats. They were chaperoned by Desmond, who seemed a little uncomfortable babysitting the adolescent girls. Ornan had been dispatched on his own boat while Dario took control of a third.

"Why should I go? You're always saying he's _your_ son. Besides, I have a bar to run, and Rickie's gonna need some company. You don't run a business here- those meat bun sellers downstairs will probably be the only ones who'll miss you." Louis had been shockingly adamant about not involving herself in the search, even though she had taken control of its organization so quickly before. It was easy to see why she left Dario the boy in the first place; she just didn't seem to care all that much anymore, and it had only been a few hours since the ordeal had begun.

Dario didn't argue, which was an alarming surprise to everybody. He just mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like "stupid tramp" a few times before heading off to claim his rowboat and start searching.

Despite Louise's determination to 'comfort' Rickie, it honestly wasn't all that necessary. For someone whose son was her only remaining family, she didn't seem as ensnared by panic as Ornan had thought she would be. Instead, she kept a rather grimly-determined face, and if anyone asked how she felt, she responded quite matter-of-factly that all boys run away at one time or another, and it's the test of a mother's womanhood to avoid shaming herself by crying. He had enough experience around people to recognize a front, but he admired her for the courage and dignity she displayed.

Being the worst rower, he had been volunteered to search Mordos Island, despite Dario's protests. By then, Rickie was leading in Louise's suddenly-vacant stead, and where the former had been commanding, Rickie was the equivalent of an empress. The only thing she had been talked out ofwas searching herself, and that had been a joint accomplishment between both Louise and Dario, with Dario doing most of the shouting and Louise the reasoning. It was also surprising how well the two cooperated when Dario was hysterical with worry. An odd couple to be sure, but Ornan was starting to imagine how the relationship was possible in the first place.

He frowned to himself through his fatigue as another memory rose up to consciousness. Odd couples and odd relationships…

Once inside his quarters after his forced recruitment, he had simply checked to make sure his throwing knives were all sharpened and ready for use. Although probably unnecessary on a search-and-potential-rescue mission, they helped him cope with his depression. Noting to himself how dull a few were, he vowed to take better care of them now that he wouldn't be spending all of his time in the saloon.

It was ten minutes after that when the knock came. Hoping, well expecting really, that it was Louise come to reveal she had no idea why Dario kept claiming they shared a child, he had been both startled and disappointed to see an ugly black-haired girl standing haughtily in the hallway. It was the Lady Tactician's nasty little apprentice.

"Lady Elenor wants to speak with you," she said, managing to somehow look down on him despite being nearly half a span shorter. "You're not worth her impatience, so don't keep her waiting." Spinning smartly on her heel, she walked off in much the same manner she had greeted him: snobby and rude.

_Not a whole lot of respect for a man's moods on this ship_, he thought with just a hint of bitterness. Just a hint. Walking up to Elenor's room on the top floor deck, he couldn't keep his own mind from rubbing salt in to the already gaping wound. _What's the point of you staying here? You came to find _her,_ and you know that's not going to happen now. You're useless, you're stupid, and, worst of all, you _don't care._ Obel means nothing to you. Sonja is, no, _was_ everything. _

_Why stay where you're not needed? Or wanted?_

Sinking even further into that hungry, black maw known as depression, Ornan didn't even bother knocking on the door. Completely ignoring whatever-her-name-was (Alice, or something like that) and her obnoxious whines at his entry, he sat down in the chair before Elenor's desk, locking eyes with the diminutive, flame-haired strategist.

She was also seated, though she looked every bit as perturbed as her apprentice. Hopefully not for the same reasons, though. With one hand, she drummed her fingers on the desk in a slow, meditative rhythm, while the other hand clutched a dark flask that sloshed with liquid every time it moved.

After a few moments of heated staring, Ornan was cowed into being the first to speak. "You wished to see me Ele… _Lady _Elenor."

She sat back into her chair, crossing both arms underneath her chest. Not a pretty woman by any means, she still retained an air of stubborn intelligence, and this posture, with her arms folded and face creased in both annoyance and what could've been interest, epitomized it.

"Claiming I really wished to see you, boy, is incorrect. I'm not interested in staring at you, but I am interested in answers. _Your_ answers." She took a gulp of the flask's contents and fixed him with that intense stare of hers. "Agnes, go to the library for a few minutes. This won't take long," she said without looking up. Behind him, Ornan heard the door creak open and then close a second later. "So," Elenor began, "Are you from the Scarlet Moon Empire?"

"I was born there, yes," he replied, still not all that interested in this "interrogation," as she seemed to be implying. It didn't help that he couldn't tell where this was going.

Taking another gulp, this one a bit longer, her eyes locked on to him again. This time, they seemed ready to drill holes into his brain, picking out whatever they needed. It shocked him out of his apathy.

"That's a bit better. You'd best sit up straighter boy, I want well-thought answers. Nothing half-arsed." She chuckled dryly before continuing. "Are you a noble from Scarlet Moon?"

That revealed it. _She wants to know about _that. He answered, not even bothering to take the effort to lie. "Yes, I'm supposed to be related to the McDohls on my mother's side. They're a pretty young family, and I'm not a direct heir, so I don't really consider myself a noble or anything that grand."

She didn't smile; she just kept staring in his eyes- no, past them. _Maybe she really is picking my thoughts. _

"You were involved in the raids on Kooluk three years ago, correct? The ones that resulted in Tod McDohl's death? And his three sons," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"I might've fought for my family, yes." He was suddenly uncomfortable as he realized how well-informed she was. _Well, of course she's well-informed; wasn't she there when the Crays used that weird Rune on everyone? At least that's the rumor._ "I know what you want to ask me about, but I wasn't there when everyone died. I only went on two raids."

She made a dismissive gesture with her hands. "I know that. Tod only led two raids in the first place. But of the two villages you attacked… was one called Chindi Village?"

She'd managed to lose him again. "I, uh, think so. The larger one had a name like that; more of a town than a village, though."

"And you destroyed everything, correct? Every building, every field, even every person?"

His eyes widened. _Does she want to nail me as a criminal? No. I'm not a criminal; that was Lord McDohl, and he's dead. _"To the best of my knowledge, everything was destroyed."

She closed her eyes and, after unfolding her arms, began to massage her temples. She still clutched the black flask in one hand."Thanks. That explains more than you know." Opening her eyes, she smiled bitterly at him and nodded, the intensity completely gone from her face. "I hear you're going to be busy for a while. You'd best get going."

As he neared the door, he heard her call to him one last the time. "Ornan, you realize you're the last-remaining McDohl, right? That makes you a noble _and _the head of the house. Don't let the family die for some never-ending ghost-hunt."

Those were the last words she would ever say to him, but Ornan, of course, didn't know that.

Coming out of his introspecting-reverie, he noticed that his weak rowing for the last five minutes hadn't gotten him any closer to the island. The sun was beginning to set, and the cold was quickly becoming a bit more serious than the refreshing breeze it had been earlier.

Grunting with exertion, he put all of his remaining strength into getting the rowboat ashore.

* * *

"Still no sign of him, Nico?" Rikie was clutching the deck railing until her knuckles were as white and clammy as sea foam.

"No ma'am." He kept scanning the horizon north of the ship as though he hadn't even spoken. How he could see anything in the descending gloom with only a small lamp was beyond her.

Sighing, Rikie unclenched her fists, releasing the railing. She was about ready to let Dario go and follow him. He'd been the first to return, and every minute Ornan failed to come back seemed to increase his impetuousness.

It had probably been a mistake to send him to Mordos. Sure, it was supposed to be the shortest distance of the three intended search areas, but everyone had returned well before they had scoured their designated areas to the entirety, making Ornan's path the longest by far. Rikie couldn't blame them, either; it was almost certain that the boys had made for the tiny trading island, so why waste time looking where they weren't going to be?

She was almost ready to strangle Elenor Silverberg, too. The woman refused to let the ship lift anchor and harbor off of Mordos! Rikie had been on the verge of begging when Dario stopped her, angrily saying how he wanted to find his son. Alone. She had told him to wait, but how much longer he actually would, she couldn't be certain.

Rikie understood the necessity to keep the fleet together at the staging point, but Mordos wasn't that far away. Shivering with frustration rather than cold, she began calming walking down the stairs towards the saloon. The wood creaked beneath her steps, but all she heard was Rakgi telling her how great Nalleo's dad was. How brave and amazing and _strong_.

As she opened the saloon doors, she made a decision and went straight to bed. That night, when Dario snuck out of his room and out on to the deck, there was no one to stop him. The person who was supposed to be watching his door was soundly asleep in her room, dreaming of her son.

* * *

"And what will happen to me if those soldiers trace the murders back to my ship?" The captain seemed angry, but Min could almost taste the fear behind the façade. His jolly grin grew even wider.

"My, my captain. I assure you, the Kooluk will not trace anything back to your ship. Your, ahem, _fishing _company is quite safe." Min spoke congenially, yet he hefted his wicker fish back onto his lap so that it faced the captain on the other side of the chart table.

"I'm not worried about the Kooluk!" Min could sense that anger was washing away the captain's fear, and he realized he'd made a slight error in revealing his employers. "It appears as though they're _losing_ this war, and I'll have to answer to a new government soon enough. One that will actually be interested in protecting the people!"

"You fail to realize-"

"No!" he shouted, slamming his hands on the table. "It's _you _who fails to realize the gravity of this situation! I'mleaving youhere at Mordos and telling the Obel army, or whatever they call themselves now, to imprison you the next time they pass by here-"

The arrow bolt took him right in the throat. With a gurgling noise, he slid to the floor. His hands continued scratching at the chart table, leaving gauged trenches behind. Finally, they ceased moving and collapsed onto the body. It was covered in wet, sticky blood.

Opening his fish basket, he changed the spent clip in the repeating crossbow and slid a few new bolts into it, being careful not to misalign the weapon from the thin firing slot cut into the wicker. _It was damn careless of me, _he thought. _I shouldn't have allowed the fisherman to get word of the murders. Too easy to make connections. Now I'll have to find a new ride off this island. _It was a pity he didn't know how to control a ship, but he'd made do up until then, and he'd make do after.

This trip was turning up too many wasted opportunities. So far, he'd killed three men baring this Ornan McDohl's description, as no one recognized the name and he couldn't count on just _one_ of them being the right man. Now, he'd have to kill the entire crew of this fishing ship just because some stupid fisherman had decided that he was going to be noble this week. All a waste of perfectly-good crossbow bolts.

Ten minutes later, Min stepped gingerly off the boat and cut the rope connecting it to the Mordos dock. He then shoved the boat out to sea, hoping that the wind wouldn't blow it back onto the beach. The dark, star-litnight air seemed to recognize his prayer, as the ship didn't float back onto the beach.

With everyone aboard dead, rumors were sure to spread following its recovering. The thought of being stuck on this island forever due to suspicious captains killed Min's smile. He'd need to gather information, if there was any, and leave fast, before any suspicions could arise. He didn't think killing would be necessary here.

Because of that, he never checked the repeating crossbow hidden in his wicker fish basket, since he knew there was still one bolt remaining in the clip should a need to use it arise. He never noticed the wicker lining blocking the thin slot where the bolts left the basket.

Perhaps things would've been different if he had.


End file.
